Soundtracks

I asked him, "whose music
do you make love to?"
He said, "Mine"
But it wasn't trumpets, cymbals + drums
It was my breaths, his sweat our hearts
See
Young lovers
Those forcing sex synthetically
Instead of organically
Mask sex with frills, thrills +
Soundtracks
Other peoples pain and passion on mixtapes
Create moments universal but not unique
But real lovers hear the
Melody of their partner's motions
And make that their favorite song
Every tone + thump
Each squish + squirm
Become the chorus to a never ending groove
No Isley Bros, no baritoned balladeer
Compares
To the songs we make inadvertently
Adventurously
Attentively
I know when to press play
And let the soundtrack of our love
Create itself